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located in Japan, a part of Iconic, one of the many universes on RPG.

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Turning a sharp corner, he'd finally decided that the parking garage a couple blocks away from the actual shop would be appropriate. Who knew where the media would be hiding, it was tedious trying to keep out of view of spying camera's and men and women whose lives revolved around celebrities. What a pitiful life. Scoffing, he drove into the garage and parked close to the entrance for an easy getaway, but far enough behind many vehicles that his gleaming steed wouldn't be spotted easily. One would have to wander around the garage first to spot it, since he'd parked behind an old, aquamarine shagging-wagon. Nobu pulled the keys from the ignition and pocketed them, analyzing the vehicle he'd parked behind. “I wouldn't mind having one of those,” Nobu murmured to himself, smiling suavely before exiting the Lotus and adjusting his disguise in the mirror. As long as his trademark blue eyes and black hair was changed ever-so-slightly and no one looked too close, he looked like the average, boy-next-door type guy. Once he was satisfied with tucking stray strands of hair beneath his cap, he narrowed his eyes in the cars mirror and shrugged his shoulders; it would have to do.

Turning on his booted heels, Nobu strode away from his vehicle and crossed the road onto the sidewalk, carefully picking his way through the streets. While he walked, he couldn't help but stop to examine one of his posters—they'd made it so suggestive, it bothered him. They were always trying to make him pose for camera's as suggestively as they could because fans went “wild” over it. For once, he'd like to design the posters, and they'd make the fans go wild because of his talents, not how he looked or was dressed. Sucking in a hissing breath of air, Nobu shook his head and continued his walk towards the shop. Ian's directions had been pretty accurate as he passed by the cute little fish shop, he had to stop and peer inside. He'd never actually been shopping downtown because admittedly much of his time was monopolized in the empty (non-smoking) studio or cooped in his suite. It was boring and he often thought about sneaking out to meet residents, he wasn't used to dealing with most of the business parts of touring. Back home, it seemed like it was all play and no business—with his manager faithfully dealing with anything that needed to be dealt with. Now it was like he wouldn't be able to meet anyone of his fans. As he pressed his palm against the glass of Miss-fish-lady's shop, he glanced over his shoulder and squinted to spot the two cat statues the stylist had been talking about.

Nobu rolled his shoulders back and took another deep breath, maybe after he'd be so lucky to stop at a few shops before heading back to his suite. Maybe he'd ask Ian for directions and he could send him off to the closest sushi shop, as well as a small bar? It couldn't hurt to be familiarized with the place he'd be staying at for awhile. Tsking, the raven-haired man pulled his attention away from the colourful shops lining the busy street and quickly made his way over to the stylists shop. His bright eyes stopped short of the windows (which seemed to have something weird covering them), and he peered over the top of his sunglasses before pushing his way through an oncoming crowd. The streets were always busy at this time of day and he never understood why. Nobu reached for the door and dragged it open, moving in brusquely before glancing over his shoulder. Content that no one had followed him, Nobu slipped off his sunglasses and deposited them in his pocket before he caught sight of the small, blond.

He easily towered over the man, but he thought they might've been the same age. Breathing out, Nobu pulled the small, oriental-looking slides on the door closed to finalize the privacy he would need. Everything in the shop was perfect—there were no wet, bedraggled customers ogling at him and the stylist was as young and spry as he was. Tipping his hat off his head, the vocalist tousled his hair before hanging the cap on a rack and turned his attention on the stylist. “Ah, thank you.” Nobu said, motioning at the windows before moving closer to him. To anyone else, Nobu's friendliness could come off as intimidating—and the only thing intimidating besides his height was his serious eyes. It was also his selling point. “Nobu Kinmoshi, we may as well be on first name basis' since you'll be working on my hair.”